


The Stuff of Nightmares

by TheStraggletag



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Embarrassing parents are embarrassing, F/M, Fix-it fic, Humour, It's always about getting caught, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStraggletag/pseuds/TheStraggletag
Summary: It's every child's worst nightmare.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morganfir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganfir/gifts).



> To repay Morganfir for her lovely gift.

It was a fool-proof plan. It had to be done, really, for his mother's sake. Better she be burned one final time than perpetually go back and forth with his father. The Dark One might have arrogantly proclaimed his love for himself and his mother, but he was sure when push came to shove he wouldn't come through. It hurt, but both him and Belle were strong. They would be better off by themselves, making their little two-person family work out. He looked around the Dark Castle's foyer, conceding that the cluster of small children's shoes might be a tad too dramatic. His mother's conjured castle had been much cheerier, product no doubt of her good nature and loving heart, so he'd added his own projection of shadows through his own fear of it. Though he'd never been to the Dark Castle the name alone was enough to bring unpleasant images to mind. 

Until recently he had been able to hear the echo of a song, his father's pitiful attempt at romancing his mother, no doubt. It was all the Dark One had, smoke and mirrors, showmanship and little substance. He wouldn't be fooled by any of it, though he almost had when the imp had so fiercely declare his love of his unborn son. A son he'd sold without knowing could not be a son he cared for. The golden child had been Baelfire, the only one to truly be able to say to have been loved by Rumplestiltskin, and yet it hadn't been enough. His older brother had only suffered due to that love and though he had been noble enough to forgive in the end it didn't change things. 

The foyer was silent now, the music cutting off rather abruptly, and he suspected it meant his mother had broken out of the dream haze and into the unpleasant reality of her failed marriage and lying husband. He resolved to give her the space she'd need to confront Rumplestiltskin, planning to swoop in later and seal the deal with his own accusations and the big revelation of his parentage but he grew suspicious when he didn't immediately hear raised voices. He had distinctly felt her mother awaken in her conscious, snapping out of the dream state. She should be clearly arguing with his father at that point. After a while, though his ears picked up muffled sobs and low, unintelligible exclamations of pain. There was a crash, the sound of breaking china almost obscuring his mother's yelp and a few seconds later he could clearly distinguish female moans. 

The bastard was hurting his mother. Surely after she'd confronted him and his treachery he'd stopped playing nice guy and had resorted to violence like the beast he was. He rushed up the stairs, throwing open the door and stepping into the room with as much flair as possible. His father might have taught him little that was worth knowing, but he had learned from him the importance of an entrance. He noticed first the tea set, smashed into bits and pieces on the floor. At first he thought his mother was hunched over it, maybe callously ordered to pick up every shard of china. But it was only a yellow dress, it's boned structure misleading to the eye. A soft whimper finally drew his attention to his mother. She was lying on the edge of the massive table that dominated the room, her legs dangling on the edge and her upper body supported by her hands, planted behind her to anchor her. He clothes had been changed, silver kitten-heels replaced by gold pumps and, strangely, her blue dress for a whispy bit of white, like a chemise, and a flurry of yellow-tinted tulle layers obscuring her lower half. His father looked nowhere to be seen at first, but then his mother threw her head back, arching off the table slightly and letting out a rather desperate sounding cry of "Rumplestiltskin" and a disturbing little giggle, so innately familiar to him from her memories, emanated from beneath the layers upon layers of see-through cloth hiding her legs.

They were...

"Oh my God!" He fumbled with the overly-long sleeves of his golden tunic, cursing his theatrical inclination as he attempted to cover his eyes. "Get off mom, dad!"

He stumbled back a few steps, bumping into a pedestal and knocking whatever had been displayed there to the ground. Against his wishes he dared peak from behinds his fingers, trying to see if her mother had been held against his will. Hoping she had been, really, because his mother was an elegant woman who surely did not wish to... engage in carnal activities in the middle of the day. On top of a dining room table. With a man who looked to her like a sparkling disco lizard. His mom was... classy. And pure.

... and she looked like she had been having the time of her life. Though obviously not pleased to have been interrupted, and shocked at having had a grown stranger call her "mom", she wasn't making any attempt to shy away from her husband, nor did she look angry at him. Rumplestiltskin, to add to the utter absurdity of the situation, had come out from beneath his wife's petticoats- well, that explained the dress on the floor- hair sticking up everywhere and a trace of- he shuddered- something coating the lower part of his face. 

"Dad?"

His voice was soft, a mixture of his impish tones and his original deeper brogue, and sounded both shocked and damnably hopeful. In awe. It churned his stomach, for it surely was an act. He was also still holding onto his mom's upper thighs with his black, claw-like fingers, so his breakfast was toast either way.

"Get your hands off my mom, you bastard! God, you're both so embarrassing! I haven't even been born yet and you're already scarring me for life!"

He started pacing, catching out of the corner of his eye his father magically re-dressing his mother- he noticed he'd returned her to her blue peasant dress, and had raised the neckline ever-so-slightly- trying to gather his thoughts. It was surely somehow Rumplestiltskin's fault. He'd seduced his mother, after awakening her, taking advantage of her disorientation and her lowered defences, the spark of True Love's Kiss for sure making her even more vulnerable to his schemes. Except, of course, that she was still touching the imp, a hand on his shoulder as they both looked at each other and then at him, trying to process things. Finally fed up he snatched her from the table, wanting as much physical distance between his parents as possible.

"Just... Stay over here, mom. I'm gonna true love's kiss you in a minute and then we can just forget this, okay?"

She was looking at him intently, as if trying to memorise every detail about his face. Then she raised a hand and gently combed it through his hair, making it neat again.

"Look at you. You're so handsome."

Warmth bloomed on his chest, the same that he's tried to squish when he'd caught his father's look earlier. He smiled, standing as straight as possible so his mother would see how tall he was. 

"You have your mother's nose. Thank the gods."

His attention shifted again to his father, and though he'd promised to harden his heart against him it was difficult to do so with the unabashed love shining in the man's face. He'd seen similar looks as he'd shifted through his mother's memories. It was similarly to how Rumplestiltskin had gazed at his oldest son, the wanted one. Maybe... maybe he'd jumped to conclusions. He'd seen what had been at the forefront of her mother's mind, the lying and the breaking of promises. But perhaps... perhaps there was more to the story.

Maybe.

"Okay, so... I'm gonna kiss you awake mom, okay? And maybe later you can both take a nap and we'll... discuss things." He glanced at his father, reluctantly adding "All three of us."

His father did that wobbly quirking of the lips that he recognised as him trying not to cry and his heart softened even more. 

"That would be wonderful."


End file.
